12 APRIL 1963, Page 26

The Insulators

I've gathered nine cats about me Instead of one life. I can face Eighteen eyes without suspicion— Lie safe on these vitreous humours.

Smooth talk is a foreign body visitors Lodge in my head, the cause of a wound Setting up complications only a small Rough tongue on my face can heal.

They can't install a phone on me.

No cat would respond to that fraudulent purring. I won't have those awkward pauses drying My throat—tell them to write a letter.

A cat has X-ray eyes, will happily chew All their polite conventions then Spew them up. So much for their Paper morality. Not one of my cats Could suffer enough remorse For flagellation on a prickly mat.

B. C. LEALE